When Love Goes Home
by InfinityStar
Summary: Bobby was gone, but he never really left her.
1. No Greater Love

**A/N: The usual disclaimer apply, of course. This is a sequel to Where Love Has Gone (so I didn't kill him again, guys), so be warned, it's not a happy story...I can't promise this will get updated as quickly as I normally update because it's so difficult to write, but I will do my best...**

* * *

Mike Logan had never believed in ghosts. Sure he believed in an afterlife, in heaven and hell, but he never believed the spirits of the dead remained among the living...until Bobby Goren died. At first, he thought it was a figment of his imagination, a failure of his rational mind to accept the big guy's death. Sometimes, when he was alone in his apartment, before he turned the TV on, he would swear he heard his voice. He wasn't saying anything...just...letting him know he was there. Making sure he was taking care of Alex, most likely. "Yes, Bobby," he would tell thin air. "I swear I'm taking care of her." 

And at night, when he dwelled in that misty land between wakefulness and sleep, that was when Bobby paid a real visit. He could see his friend, and he looked good...relaxed, almost happy...waiting, in his ever-patient way, for Alex to join him. Of course, he'd convinced himself that he was imagining things. It couldn't be real. It was just his mind playing tricks on him.

But the visits never stopped.

* * *

Bobby was gone, and yet he never really left her. Those times when she should have felt most alone, she didn't. Deep in the night, snuggled down into the bed she had shared with him, her heart would ache. She would long for the touch of his skin against hers, the warmth of his breath tickling her neck...and, closing her eyes, she could feel him there. A soft whisper of a breath sighing gently past her ear, the whiff of his cologne in her nostrils, the sensation of warmth along her back where he used to lay against her, holding her, protecting her, loving her. On those nights, she slept. She didn't have to cry herself to sleep, didn't feel that achy emptiness that haunted her most of the time. No, on those nights, he was with her, and she allowed herself to pretend he had never died. 

She always regretted that the next morning, because the reality of her life hit her with a harder blow than before. Every time. She never thought it possible to miss him more, or to hurt more because he was gone, but she did. Every time.

* * *

Eames flipped through the file on her desk, but she wasn't seeing the words or the pictures. Looking up at her partner, she was struck, again, by the profound sense of loss that had been with her since Bobby had been killed. Her throat closed up and she couldn't talk, so she dropped her eyes back to the file, which blurred before her. "Hey, Alex?" came a voice from over her shoulder. 

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she looked over her shoulder at Mike Logan. "What?" she managed.

"It's lunchtime. Would you have lunch with me? That is, if your partner doesn't mind."

Pete Delaney shook his head. "Be my guest. I am bogged down with paperwork, anyway. Bring me back a sandwich."

"Pastrami on rye?" Eames asked.

Pete smiled sadly at her. "Whatever you need to bring me back, Alex."

Pastrami on rye...that was Bobby's... "Oh, Pete...I'm sorry. Ham and swiss."

She grabbed her jacket and headed for the elevators. Logan followed her. He slipped a comforting arm over her shoulders and lowered his head to hers. "Shall we take a long lunch?"

"Can we?"

"Sure. Wait just a sec while I tell Barek and Delaney."

He disappeared from her side and she leaned against the wall, waiting for him. Six months today, she realized. It was six months since her partner, her lover, had died in her arms in a dark alley, a cop killer's bullet in his chest. His was the last life that killer had taken. And she just was not having any success moving on, getting past the grief, the loss and the emptiness his death had left her with. Her grief was still as raw as it had been six months ago, when she'd had to say good-bye.

Logan was back. "Let's go."

-----------------------------------------------------------

She dropped to her knees on the thick, trimmed grass beside the marble headstone. Lightly she ran her fingers over the name carved in it, and she couldn't stop the tears anymore. "It doesn't get any easier, Bobby," she whispered, pressing her head against the marble.

_Did you think it would?_ came his voice on the autumn breeze.

She closed her eyes as the scent of his cologne came to her on the soft wind that blew around her. And again, in her mind's eye, she could see him, sitting beside her and leaning back against the marble that bore his name. She shook her head. "I try to get through even one day without thinking about you, and I can't. And every day hurts just as much as it did the day I lost you."

_Lost me? Eames, you never lost me. You never will._

"Damn you, Bobby. You always tell me that, but it's not the same! I can't feel your hands on my skin, or your breath in my ear. Damn it, I can't make love to a ghost."

_I'm sorry, Alex. I can't fix that. All I can do is wait for you. All I can say is that I love you. If you need more, I can't give you that. But I'm in your heart and I always will be._

"I don't need anything but you. It's not the loving I miss...it's _you_ loving me. It's you I miss."

_Don't cry, baby. Please._

"But it hurts. How am I supposed to do this?"

_I don't know. I just know you have to find a way._

"You're no help, Goren."

_I try, Alex. I really do. But I can't touch you. I can't be with you. And I do want to be._

"Life sucks, Bobby."

_So does death, without you._ A soft laugh, and she smiled.

"It's been six months, today."

_That's all? It feels like forever._

"It sure does."

_Mike takes care of you, doesn't he? _

"As much as I'll let him."

_Let him, Alex. For me. I need to know they're taking care of you._

"You should be here doing it, dammit."

_I did my job. _She could almost hear that defensive tone he got when she yelled at him for doing something he thought he had to do.

"I know you did. I just wish you hadn't done it so well. Then I could be with you."

_Don't say that._

"It's true. You just had to go and be a hero."

_There was nothing heroic about what I did. It was purely selfish._

"You gave your life in the line of duty. That's one of the definitions of hero."

_But the only thing I could think of was that I couldn't live without you._

"So you left me behind to live without you. Thanks a lot."

_Don't ask me to apologize. I'm not sorry. Not this time._

"I know you're not. What is it they say...'No greater love...'? "

_'No greater love hath any man than that he lay down his life for his friends.' And I do love you, Alex._

"I know. I love you, too, Bobby. Maybe I just wish you had loved me a little less so I wouldn't have had to say good-bye so soon. I guess I'd better get back to work. The bad guys keep on coming." She opened her eyes and kissed his headstone. Softly she said, "Please...keep coming to me at night. I hate waking up, but I sleep so much better."

A soft breeze whispered past her cheek. _I will_. The scent of his cologne faded away, but the tingle on her lips from his kiss remained. She headed to the car, where Logan waited patiently. She climbed into the passenger seat and looked at him. "Do you still need a roommate?"

His eyebrows rose curiously. "Only if it's you."

She nodded. "Okay, then."

He'd been trying to get her to leave her lonely, empty apartment and move in with him since Bobby died. He didn't want anything from her but to take care of her. The last thing he wanted was to be haunted by Goren's ghost. "What changed?"

"He told me to let you take care of me."

Logan smiled. "He's right. We don't want you being alone. Physically you can take care of yourself, and we all know that. Emotionally, you need someone to lean on. You know you do. It'll be easier for me when you're in the next room instead of across town."

She sighed. "Sure, let's make it easier for you, Logan."

"You know what I mean."

She just smiled. _There, Bobby,_ she thought._ Happy?_

To her surprise, his voice answered, _Yes._

_tbc...

* * *

_

**A/N 2: "No greater love hath any man than that he lay down his life for his friends." (John 15:13)**


	2. Nightmares

_The black SUV was parked at the curb. She sat behind the wheel, sipping at her coffee and watching the dark street around them. "Are you sure he's going to turn up here?"_

_"That's what he's been doing," her partner answered, distracted._

_She looked over at him, his face buried in a file that was nestled inside his binder. She smiled warmly. That was her Bobby._ Her _Bobby. Reaching toward him, she lightly fingered the gray hair that curled at his temple. He raised his head to look at her. There was that innocent, little boy look she loved so much. "Have I told you lately that I love you, Goren?"_

_He looked thoughtful. "Not in the last few hours," he replied._

_"Well, I do."_

_He smiled. "I love you, too, Eames."_

_She leaned back into her seat and sighed. She was surprised when his hand slid behind her head and he pulled her toward him for a kiss. "What was that for?" she asked, surprised._

_"Just...because," he replied. Then he went back to his file and she took another sip of hot coffee. _

_He never ceased to amaze her. Just when he seemed most engrossed in what he was doing, his head jerked up from the file. Alert eyes scanned their surroundings and he pointed. "There. By that building."_

_They watched the shadows, saw a man's figure slide into the light of the streetlamp. "Let's get him," she whispered...words she would regret for the rest of her life. Until the day she died, she would wish she had said, 'Let's go home.'_

_They jumped out of the car and ran toward the figure. "Excuse me, sir..." Bobby began._

_The man looked up, alarmed. "We just want to ask you a few questions," Eames added._

_He took off running and they pursued. With his long stride, Bobby easily took the lead. She wondered if he sensed something, but she would never know. The suspect turned into an alley, and they followed, guns drawn. At that point, everything jumped into slow motion. It was a dead end alley, and like a cornered animal, their suspect turned to fight. But he cheated. He drew a gun. The first shot roared and went wide, missing them by several yards. She brought her weapon around to fire, but her partner stepped in the way just as the second shot exploded into the night. She saw his body jerk, and her heart stopped. She heard his gun go off and then he collapsed. The suspect was down and did not move. She grabbed her radio, shouting their location into it, followed by the words every cop dreads to speak and to hear, "Officer down! Send a bus! My partner's been shot!"_

_She dropped down to the filthy ground beside him, pulling his head into her lap. Pushing his jacket open, she saw the blood beginning to spread across his shirt. To this day, she never knew why he hadn't put on his vest, but she hadn't had hers on either. She didn't remember why they had chosen that night not to wear them. "Oh, my God, Bobby. Please...stay with me, baby. Please..."_

_He looked confused. "My...chest hurts, Alex..."_

_"I know, honey. Just hang in there, okay? Promise me you'll hang on. There's an ambulance coming...listen..."_

_She wasn't sure he heard it. He seemed focused on her. He reached toward her, touching her lips with his fingers. She could smell the gunpowder on his hand. "I...love you..." he whispered. "I'll always...love you...Alex..."_

_"I love you, too," she answered, tears streaming down her face. She leaned down and kissed him. He had kissed her back. "God, Bobby...please...please stay with me."_

_He nodded, or rather she thought he did...but his eyes slid closed and she buried her face in his broad chest, continuing to beg him not to die. It seemed like hours, but it was only minutes before the sirens drew close and stopped. Gentle hands pulled her from him, but she didn't want to go. "I don't have a pulse," she heard a paramedic say. "Starting CPR..."_

_The words that followed jumbled. "Charge to 300...clear...ok...I have something...let's get him outta here...bagging him...charging the paddles to 260...280...300...clear..."_

_She had no idea how she got to the hospital, but she remembered Mike being there...holding her in strong, comforting arms. The doctor came out, his blue scrubs dark with blood. "I'm sorry. We did all we could, but he was gone before he got here."_

_Sorry? He was sorry? How the hell did he think she felt? She collapsed into Mike's arms and cried._

Her breath came in short gasps and sobs as she sat up, drenched in sweat. "No! No!"

Her bedroom door opened, and Logan came in, hair messed, still half-asleep. But he always came when she woke from this nightmare. He sat on the bed and pulled her into his arms, and she cried into his chest. It never got any easier. Never.

He gently stroked her hair and softly shushed her. He rocked her in his arms and wished there was something, anything, he could do to help her. He couldn't chase the nightmares away, and he never had to ask what they were about. When she asked him why, he had no answer. He just held her and rocked her until she fell back to sleep, exhausted.

Then he eased her back against the pillows and looked around the room. "Why, Bobby?" he asked the air.

And Bobby always answered him. _Why what, Mike?_

"Why did you do this to her?"

_To save her life._

"For what? To live without you. It would have been an act of mercy to take her with you, man."

_Maybe you're right._

"I know I am. And I'm pissed at you for doing this to her."

_I know. Go back to bed, Mike. Thanks for taking care of her. I'll stay with her now._

"Damn straight you will. Good night, Bobby."

_Good night, pal._

Grumbling, Logan left the room, closing the door behind him.

She shifted in the bed, drawing a shuddering breath and softly sobbing. "Bobby," she whispered in her sleep.

_I'm right here, Alex._

Her eyes popped open and she turned in the bed, looking around the room. It was empty. She settled back into the bed and stared at the ceiling. But she didn't feel alone. "I miss you more than you will ever know."

She felt the now-familiar whisper of the wind across her body, which was always accompanied by the scent of his cologne...and sometimes even by the subtle, clean scent of his skin...and that always made her miss him even more. _Go back to sleep, baby. I'll stay here with you._

She snuggled down into the bed, pulling the blanket up around her. "It's almost Christmas," she said softly.

_I know._

"Do you remember last Christmas?"

_Yes. We-we talked about having a baby._

"I'm glad it never happened. There's no way I could raise a baby without you."

_I wish it_ had _happened. Then you'd have a part of me that you could touch and hug, to be there with you._

"It wouldn't be the same."

_I know._

She sighed. "I'm tired. Just hold me, okay?"

_Sure._ She felt a feather-light whisper across her temple, followed by a warm tingle across her lips. She sighed deeply and nestled into the warmth of her memories, and she went back to sleep.


	3. Never Really Gone

**A/N: Very sorry for the long delay in this update. My son's best friend was killed in a car accident last month and then, a week later, my grandmother passed away. So I couldn't even go near this story for awhile. But here's the next chapter...and there won't be but one or maybe two more. Thanks to The Confused One for her opinion...I was afraid I'd lost the rhythm here...**

She stood in front of the two-way glass, watching Delaney with their suspect. This bastard had killed his young son in a fit of rage against his mother, and now he was trying to foist the blame onto the bereaved mother. Bobby would have been all over this son-of-a-bitch. Pete's technique in the interrogation room was much less confrontational, much less aggressive. This perp wasn't the kind who would have drawn Bobby's sympathetic, I-know-how-you-feel technique. No, he would have lambasted the guy into confessing. No kid gloves for this one.

She was getting restless. A hand came to rest on her shoulder and she looked into the captain's calm green eyes. "Relax," he said softly. "Let Pete have a crack at him. There's no right or wrong here, Alex. It's a matter of style and personality. Bobby was as adept at being disarming as he was at being intimidating. Pete's manner is very different. You know that. He's more set in his ways, less versatile...but still effective."

"Not equally so," she pointed out.

Deakins sighed. "No. Not equally so. But face it...no one I have ever known was like your partner was. Goren was one of a kind, and you need to accept that and move on. Stop expecting Pete to act, or react, like Goren did." He lowered his voice. "He's more settled and more stable than Bobby was."

She rested her head on the wall near the glass, successfully choking back the tears that threatened, turning instead to anger, but keeping it inside. At times like this, she had found the most success with control when she focused her anger on her late partner. These days, she settled for whatever worked. She would apologize to him later, though he never blamed her. Invariably, he was the one who ended up apologizing to her, for leaving her behind.

The door opened and Logan came into the room with Carver. "Any luck?" Logan asked, glancing at Eames, who had not looked away from the two-way glass.

"No," Deakins answered. "I want to give Pete a chance to wear him down."

"So why's Alex in here and not in there?"

She glanced over her shoulder. "I asked to watch. I'm not ready to take him on yet. I wanted to give Pete a chance to nail him if he can, and he agreed with me."

Quietly, Carver said, "I remember how I used to feel every time you and Goren went into one of those rooms. As long as you were in there, I was fine. But the moment you stepped from the room, I got nervous. He was very unpredictable. Remember John Tagman?"

Eames smiled. "Yes, I remember."

She had disagreed with him on that one, but she'd backed him up anyway once he'd cast his lot. She always did. Once that man had wrapped his mind around something, that was it. If it was one thing he never lacked, it was passion. A sudden wave of regret and longing swept over her. Not a day went by that she did not miss him, in every area of her life.

Logan came up behind her. "You okay?" he murmured into her ear.

"I'm...angry," she answered softly.

He could accept and understand that. He spent a lot of time being angry, too. He missed Goren a great deal, and it was easier to be angry than it was to risk choking up in mid-sentence at the wrong time. He squeezed her arm and stepped away.

She closed her eyes. She could still see Pete sitting there, facing the suspect. And, on the far side of the room...she could see Bobby...watching, listening, nodding or shaking his head. She watched him approach the table, leaning over Pete's shoulder in that odd way of his to look into the suspect's face, to read what was in his eyes. He looked up toward the mirror, walked toward it, crossed through it.

Deakins and Carver remained oblivious. Logan leaned back against the far wall and sighed. He always knew when Bobby was around. As always, though, it was Alex that Goren focused his attention on. _He's lying._

"I know," her mind answered him. She could always hear him, even if he didn't speak with a mortal voice. She could always feel him, even if he never touched her with mortal hands. His voice was a whisper in the air that brushed past her ear; his touch was the caress of a soft breeze, everywhere and nowhere all at once. He drove her just as crazy now as he did when he was alive.

_So what are you gonna do about it?_

"Let Pete handle it."

_They're dancing around in circles, Eames._

"You aren't here any more to handle this, Goren. I have to do it their way. Deakins is okay with Pete's style, just like he was with yours. And he knows what I learned from you. He'll send me in there when it's time."

He turned to watch the interrogation, crossing his arms.

"Alex?" She opened her eyes and looked at the captain. "Are you all right?"

She nodded, looking back at Delaney and the suspect, who was leaning back with a smug smile on his face. She sighed, working her anger back up. He had some nerve, popping in here to tell her they were running this interrogation wrong...he should _be _here, dammit, to do it himself!

Logan noticed the change in her posture and he could read her mood. He knew the cause, too, and he sighed again. He could sense that Goren was still around. Thank goodness for Eames, or he'd be questioning his sanity. Even dead, Goren could drive a fella to drink. And, God, Logan _missed _him...

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She set two plates on the table and handed him a beer. He grinned at her. "Nice job Pete did this afternoon with that perp."

She nodded as she sat down. "I knew he could do it."

"Disappointed you didn't get a crack at him?"

"Not at all. It doesn't matter how we got him, just that we did."

He sighed. Softly, he said, "Bobby would have had that guy for lunch."

She nodded, wiping at a stray tear. Logan looked down at his plate, and she reached across the table to touch his hand. "It's okay, Mike," she assured him. "Some days I just...miss him more than others."

"He's never far," he pointed out.

She looked up at him. "It's not the same. And dammit, I hate being mad at him all the time so I don't lose it in the middle of an interrogation. Am I losing my mind?"

"Maybe we both are. I don't know what to tell you, Alex. It's hard for you to move on when you can't let go."

"You're right. I can't let go. I-I don't want to let him go." She shuddered. "Do you think I'm responsible for him staying?"

"No. Not at all. He can't let go any more than you can. He's never going to leave you. He loved you too damn much. Just like he promised you, he's going to wait, no matter how long that takes. And you know Goren...he never could just _sit _and wait. The guy could wait forever, but he just couldn't _sit still _and do it."

She laughed softly. "No, he couldn't. That restless energy..."

"He's still got it. I think that's how I know when he's around...I feel that energy."

She looked at him. "This afternoon...you knew..."

"That he was there? Yeah, I knew. I always know. I miss him, too, Alex. I can't go out drinking any more because I always think about him. And that makes it dangerous to drink. You don't want to start out the night on a melancholy note. That just leads to trouble."

She nodded in agreement. Every time Bobby had gone out drinking when he was upset, she ended up dealing with a big, powerful, angry drunk. More than once she'd gotten frantic three a.m. phone calls from bartenders who didn't quite know what to do with him. After finding her number in his wallet, they called and begged her to come and get him. She had always been able to handle Bobby. And it only just occurred to her now that once they got together, those incidents just...stopped. He had always told her she made him happy. And she knew how happy he had always made her...right up until the day he'd died. Now...she couldn't remember a moment when she had been happy since she'd lost him, and she couldn't imagine herself ever being happy again.

She looked up when Logan touched her hand. She gave him the same sad smile she always did. It troubled him that he never saw a spark of happiness in her any more. Bobby's death had changed her dramatically. He understood that, but it still saddened him. He was glad when she had agreed to move in with him, and he didn't care what others made of it. He wasn't moving in on his dead friend's girl. First of all, she had suffered a devastating blow when she had lost the love of her life. There was no other man for her. And secondly, something no one but he and Eames would ever know, Bobby was gone, and yet, he wasn't. Logan was just taking care of her because Bobby couldn't where he was. But he was still with her...with them. And he wasn't about to risk pissing off a ghost.


	4. First Anniversary

She used to sit on the grass beside the grave, but somehow, that wasn't close enough for her. She needed _some_ form of contact. So she moved to sit in front of the headstone and lean back against it. He was always with her on some level, but somehow, she always felt his presence most strongly when she sat here, at the place where he had been buried twelve months before. It was almost as if he really was sitting beside her. Almost.

_How long has it been, Alex?_ The whisper of his voice caressed her on the spring breeze.

"A year today."

_Oh. That's all? Just a year?_

"Just a year. It's been the longest, loneliest year of my life."

He had no answer for that. He knew better than to apologize again. She was tired of hearing him say he was sorry, knowing he wasn't. Well, that wasn't completely true. He was sorry to leave her. But he was not sorry for the sacrifice he'd made.

From the moment he'd died in her arms in that dark alley, her life had changed, and nothing had been the same after that. The things that had once brought her joy, now just reminded her of him. She tried to get past it, to move on, but to her that seemed to be a betrayal. He encouraged her to live her life; he would wait as long as he had to because he was going nowhere without her. Logan tried to help her move on. So did Pete, and Deakins, her father and her siblings. No one seemed to understand what had happened to her. Everywhere she looked, she saw things that reminded her of him. Every case they worked brought back memories of his intensity, his quirkiness, his brilliance. He still wished he had left her a child; she continued to be grateful he had not.

Slowly, though, things were improving. Lately, she found herself able to laugh again, even though only Logan and Lewis were able to bring that forth from her. Logan was the one person she found herself able to be around most of the time. He was sensitive and understanding in a way she would never have expected from him. And Lewis...she had started off seeing him monthly for dinner. But when she found herself needing more of a connection to Bobby and the past that had made him into the man she loved, she increased the frequency of her dinners with him. Now she saw him weekly, which made him happy, too. He missed his lifelong friend. They found they missed him just a little less when they got together.

Her anger had passed, mostly. Occasionally, she still brought it forth when she was having a particularly difficult time, like she had when the holidays came, or on his birthday. Sometimes, she tried to pretend he was just away, on an extended leave. That didn't work too well, though, when she had to face the reality that he was never coming home. Although she still struggled to cope, the struggle was becoming less difficult. The pain, however, never went away.

She had tried to visit his grave once a month, but she found she missed the connection she felt when she was here. So she came to visit every Sunday afternoon. Initially, she had come seeking relief from the raw pain of his death. Now she came simply for comfort and for the closeness to him she felt here. She wondered if he really was still here, or if it was her imagination that brought him back. Ultimately, though, it didn't matter to her. Reality or imagination, he was real to her, and she cherished the memory of his love. She could still hear his voice, see his face, feel his touch. Those had not faded with time, like people said they would. Maybe it was the power of her memories that kept him real, as it was her love that kept him close.

"Are you tired of waiting, Bobby?"

_Of course not. What else do I have to do?_

"You tell me. I have no experience with where you are."

_I'm just...here. Just waiting._

"Is there a big difference...you know, between here and there?"

_For me there is. I don't know how to explain it any better than I have before. _

"Never mind. I don't think I want to know."

_I miss you._

"In what way?"

_In every way. I...wish I could touch you. I miss that most, I think._

"Yeah...I miss that, too." She paused. "Are you cold, Bobby?"

_Cold? No. Why?_

"Everyone associates death with cold. But when I sit here and talk to you...I can feel the breeze...I think that's how I experience you. Your voice, your touch...they both come to me on the breeze. But when you kiss me...that's warm. There's nothing cold—or hot—associated with any time you ever come to visit."

She could sense his shrug. _I'm...comfortable, I guess. Not hot or cold. The only things I really feel are a sense of peace and missing you. It's not bad, but it's not exactly good, either. It just..._is_. I know I still love you. There's always that._

She wished she could rest her head against his shoulder. "People ask me how I am and I never know what to tell them. So I tell them I'm all right, even if I'm not. Mike knows better. So does Lewis. Everyone else...they seem to believe me. Maybe because I do seem to be better. Maybe I am. But that doesn't mean I don't miss you every day."

_I don't want you to be unhappy. If someone comes along who can change that..._

"Bobby?"

_What?_

"Don't go there, okay? If you can't think of anything else to say, just sit with me and be quiet. I'm doing the best I can, and let's just leave it at that."

_I just want you to be happy, Alex._

"Then you should have worn your damn vest that night." She knew he was still there, but he was silent. "I'm sorry. That was petty."

_But true. I am sorry for that. If given a choice I would have stayed with you. But the choice that presented itself was you or me. I chose to let you live. And I am not sorry for that._

She spent the afternoon sitting with the ghost of his presence on the first anniversary of his death, and when she went home, she felt better. She always did.

That night, sitting with Logan on the couch, she said, "You know what I realized today, Mike?"

"What?"

"In all the years I knew him, I never could picture Bobby old."

He thought about it. "No. I could never picture him being old, either. I guess he's one of those people you just knew was never going to make it."

That thought gave her pause. Try as she might, it was something she had never been able to do. Now she wished she had tried a little harder. As though in trying, in seeing him together with her late in life, she would have postponed the inevitable and she would not have had to say a premature good-bye.

With a shudder she could not suppress, she leaned against Logan, seeking comfort in physical contact with him, which was something she often did and he welcomed. He slid his arm around her and let her lean into him. He didn't tell her that he had a similar problem. In his mind, it was Alex he could never picture growing old.

* * *

It was late as they headed home from the squad. It had been raining all day and the streets were wet. Between them, the radio came to life, calling for any available units to respond to a call for help in the pursuit of a suspect who had already totaled three cars and run down a civilian. Location and heading were broadcast and Eames looked at Logan. "That's not far."

He set the bubble light on the dash and flipped it on. "Let's go get 'im."

He flipped on the siren and she jammed on the accelerator. Taking up the radio, he let dispatch know they were moving to head off the suspect. This son-of-a-bitch was on his last ride.

_I really don't think this is a good idea, Alex._

"Then you should be here to stop me," she snapped.

Logan looked at her, used to her conversations with her dead lover. "He's telling you not to do this."

It wasn't a question. Goren had never let go of his tendency to protect Eames, in spite of the chasm that separated them. Logan knew that losing him was a far greater pain than anything else this life could ever inflict upon her. She'd confided in him that if she died, she would be with him again, and then she would be happy. She still had a hard time coping with her loss. She was better than she had been; he could get her to laugh these days. But that underlying grief never left her eyes. She attended family functions, but only if he went with her. She didn't want anyone's pity, and she used him to avoid it. And he let her. The rumor mill had them together, and they let everyone believe they were. It made life simpler for them both in many ways. Besides, he had become comfortable with her, and the apartment was very empty when she wasn't home.

"He doesn't think it's a good idea."

"Neither do I," he said, addressing the back seat. "But I'd rather we stop this asshole than have some five-year-old step out in front of his car."

_What five-year-old is going to be out at this hour?_

"You know what he means, Bobby."

_Just be careful, Alex._

"I am careful. I'm still alive, remember?" She sensed his sadness, and she regretted her sharp words. "I'm sorry. You know what I mean."

She turned a corner and accelerated again. _I do love you._

"I know you do. I love you, too."

Logan turned and looked toward the back seat. "Me, too. Don't leave me out." He could almost hear Goren laugh.

She pulled the car across the intersection as the suspect squealed around the corner at the far end of the block. A patrol car was right behind him as another one pulled across the far intersection, effectively blocking off both escape and retreat. There was nowhere for him to go.

Any reasonable person would have called it quits, stopped the car and surrendered. But the drugs pumping through his system fueled a paranoia that made him desperate to escape. Escape was his only option. He jammed the accelerator to the floor and braced himself as he plowed into the black Explorer that blocked his way. Both cars went flying across the intersection, the Explorer flipping over twice before coming to rest against another vehicle halfway down the next block. As the suspect's car slid toward it, the sparks ignited the spilled fuel along the street. Four patrol cars came to a screaming stop and the officers ran to pull their comrades from the wrecked vehicle before it was too late.


	5. Forever

**A/N: So sorry it has taken so very long to finish this. I knew what I wanted to achieve, and it has taken this long to find the right words to express it. Many thanks to blucougar57 and The Confused One for their input and encouragement.**

* * *

She felt warm, very warm. She struggled to move, to call out to Logan, to keep at bay the pain that filled every part of her body. She heard voices, but they were distant. And she sought out the comforting presence of her deceased partner. He was close, she knew, but she could not connect with him. Terrified that he was finally slipping away from her for good, she panicked and managed to force out a single word. "Bobby!"

* * *

The first thing he became aware of was intense heat. Then the pain came in overwhelming waves. It was everywhere, permeating every part of his body. He couldn't make a sound. The acrid smell of gasoline filled his nostrils. Gasoline and heat..._oh, shit_...He tried to move and the pain intensified to a white hot light and he felt no more.

* * *

The back doors of the last ambulance closed and Jimmy Deakins rubbed his hand over his head. "Captain?" 

He looked at the uniformed officer who approached him from the direction of the wrecked SUV. "Yes?"

"Do you want a ride to the hospital?"

"I, um, I have my car..."

"I can have one of my buddies take it to 1 PP for you. Let me give you a ride."

In no mood to argue, Deakins nodded. "Okay, fine."

He handed his keys to the man and waited for him to return. Then he let the officer drive him to NYU Medical Center, where two of his detectives were fighting for their lives.

* * *

Even when he was alive, he always hated seeing a frantic emergency room. Frantic activity meant someone was not doing well. In this case there were two lives struggling to be saved, fighting to remain in their mortal form. He watched, and he waited. And he knew...he was not going to be alone any more.

* * *

The pain was overwhelming, and then it was gone. Where the hell was he? He looked around at the open fields that surrounded him, at the mountains in the distance. The breeze that blew around him was refreshing and cool. For the first time that he could remember, he felt...at peace. He spun around at the sound of a familiar laugh. "Holy shit...look at you," he said with a wide smile, embracing the friend he'd lost a year before. 

"Hi, Mike."

"Where the hell are we?"

Goren shrugged. "Just...here."

"So I..." The question trailed off.

"Yeah. You were really messed up, man. The flames got to the car before the guys got to you. You really don't want to know any more."

"Alex?"

"Alex is stubborn. She's still fighting."

"Did they...get her out?"

"Before the flames got there, yeah. She wasn't trapped like you were. But she was badly hurt."

"And?"

"And what? She's critical."

"Can't you talk to her?"

He shook his head. "I can't reach her. She's in a deep coma, kind of suspended between existences but not fully a part of either. They can't reach her from that end, and I can't reach her from here. She doesn't understand what's going on and so she's fighting."

"So what do we do?"

Another shrug. "We just wait."

* * *

Deakins drifted between wakefulness and sleep, sitting in a chair beside her bed. A hand clamped onto his shoulder, a gentle touch followed by a firm squeeze. He looked up into a familiar face, one he had not seen in the last year, but one he knew. She had her father's eyes. "Hello, John." 

John Eames looked world-weary, infinitely sad. "How are you, Jimmy?"

"I don't know. I haven't had a good answer to that question for more than a year."

"I just talked to the doctor. She's weakening."

"She's a fighter."

John nodded. "Stubborn, like her old man."

"When were you here?"

"I guess I left right before you got back."

"I had...had to talk to the funeral director over at Hansen's. Same guy we talked to last year. Another cop with no family to speak of but us."

"I'm sorry, Jimmy. Mike was good to Alex. She loved him a great deal...but she never got over losing Bobby."

"I know."

The captain turned back to her and studied her still, deeply bruised face. Part of him was clinging desperately to hope, not wanting to lose another officer he had come to deeply care for. But part of him willed her to let go of her stubbornness and her grief, and follow her heart.

* * *

John Eames had buried his wife six months earlier. He never expected to bury a child, but he had long ago prepared himself for the possibility. Four of his children were cops. The closest he had ever come to burying one of his own was when Bobby had been killed last year. Since then, he had watched his daughter grieve. She tried to move on, but it wasn't working. She put up a brave front, and her siblings had been convinced of the act, certain she had moved on with Logan, and that was all right with them. They just wanted Alex to be happy. But John knew his little girl better than that. He knew the passion that had driven her all her life. When Joe had died, she had been devastated. She had loved him, of that he had no doubt. But it was a young love. She met and married him young, just out of the Academy, and they never had the chance to develop their relationship past youthful passion. He wondered what would have happened if Goren had come into her life during her marriage. He doubted it would have survived that partnership. 

Over the years, he had become a firm believer in fate. During almost fifty years of marriage, he figured out that in each person's existence, there was just one other person they were meant to be with forever. He had learned that there really was such a thing as soulmates. He knew that when he finally died, his wife would be there, waiting with open arms and a loving smile to spend eternity with him. Alex had found that, too, in Bobby Goren, and there was no doubt in his mind that Bobby lingered near her bed, just waiting. When Alex was ready, he would be there. And it was that knowledge more than anything that gave John Eames peace.

* * *

Lewis stood by the bed, looking down at her as he held her hand. He had come to say good-bye. Captain Deakins had been kind enough to call him, to tell him that her final hours were approaching. Her brain had finally shut down; she wasn't really with them any more. Her father had made the decision no parent should ever have to make. Her brothers and sister and their families had already been there. All the paperwork had been signed. Deakins was waiting with John for the last of her friends to say their good-byes. He was the only one left. And it was time to go. 

"I'm really gonna miss you, Detective Alex. I always looked forward to seeing you, but I guess you know that. I never was very good at hiding my feelings. Look...you tell Bobby hi for me. Let him know I miss him, too. It sure won't be the same without either of you."

Leaning down, he gave her a soft kiss. Laying her hand on the bed, he drew the sheet up and gently tucked her in. "Good-bye, Detective Alex."

Thirty minutes later, John and Deakins stood by as the doctors turned off the machines that kept her alive. They didn't have long to wait. Eight minutes and thirty-seven seconds later, at five fifty-two p.m. on a breezy spring evening, Alex Eames went home.

* * *

_He was leaning against a tree, waiting for her. She was wandering across the field, stopping to smell the flowers, and he was content to watch her, as he always had been. She had not yet realized what had happened to her, but he knew exactly when it had. His connection to the mortal realm severed when she was no longer part of it. His existence continued with and for her alone. And he waited..._

_She didn't remember how she got there, but it was nice. She was comfortable, at peace in a way she had not been before, not since the last time she'd slept in Bobby's arms. Something had changed, and she struggled to identify what. Halfway across the meadow, she looked around to get her bearings, and she saw the figure on the hillock, leaning against a tree, a familiar figure...tears of joy filled her eyes. "Bobby..." she whispered._

_He caught her in his arms, kissing her deeply as he held her close. "I missed you," she murmured against his mouth._

_He pulled back to look at her, brushing stray hair back from her face with a smile that radiated pure love. She studied him closely. Every shadow that had haunted his life was gone. Every ghost that had clouded his existence had vanished. All that remained was his love for her and the joy of being reunited, never to be parted again. _

_Her eyes glistened. "Oh, Bobby..."_

_His fingers caressed her face and she reveled in his touch once again. She didn't care to contemplate the hows of this existence...how his breath once again warmed her skin...how just being with him set her body on fire. She just accepted it and responded to him with abandon. They were together, and this time, it truly was forever._

_fin. _


End file.
